Stay strong
by DEfanficbkclub
Summary: She's new, not only in town but in every way. She makes him feel things beyond killing and death. But what is she? Who is she? Will his craving for her be to much, will it be the death of him, of her, or just those who stand in their way?


**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story. However the story line is mine.**

**Rated M just in case, it's my first fanfiction and don't really know where to draw the line.**

* * *

_Stay Strong_

_By Tahra Carranza_

_Chapter 1_

I wasn't expecting today to be any different from yesterday, or the day before, for that matter. This was Mystic Falls, and apart from the body count, nothing ever seemed to change around here. Until this afternoon, when I walked into the public library for a little browsing in the old city archives and there was a new mysterious brunette sitting behind the registrar's desk. A new face was always a surprise in this town; the number of residents had been dwindling for a while. If truth be told, there were more fliers being posted lately for missing persons than for lost puppies. Now I'm not saying that I didn't have anything to do with that. But people just didn't move to Mystic Falls. At least not since my brother and I arrived in town. You either moved away, never to look back, or you simply went missing.

But she was most definitely new. I knew this fact all too well, because I've either fed on or slept with everything worth a lick in this godforsaken town. There was no way I would have missed this one. No one could have missed her. She was easily a ten, without even trying. And believe me when I say she wasn't trying.

I watched her as she flipped long chestnut hair over one slender shoulder, dragging her fingers down her collarbone before returning them to the corner page of the book she was completely engrossed in. She was eager to turn to the next page; I could tell by the way her fingers danced on the edge of the page, dying to flip it to see what happened next. Her cheeks were flushed and her pulse rose as her nimble fingers turned to the next page, eyes dancing across the paper. I could see her blood pumping through the veins that were just visible underneath the smooth skin of her neck. I could smell her. I could taste her on my tongue already. Her heartbeat was screaming my name.

"Damon!"

"Damon! Earth to Damon," A hand waved rapidly in front of my face, blurring the perfect view of the angel sitting before me. When the hand moved swiftly once more, I snatched it tightly in my fist, listening but not watching as I felt bones crack in my grasp. My eyes didn't move from the brunette seated a mere 10 feet away from me.

"You're interrupting my viewing pleasure," I sneered, releasing the offending hand with a harsh shove.

"You don't think she's noticed you gawking at her for the last 15 minutes? I always thought you were supposed to catch them off guard, and not hold up a sign that says 'hello, crazed killer here'. But then again, maybe I've been doing it all wrong."

"What are you doing here, Stefan? You never come to the library." My eyes moved from the brunette to my brother for one moment, and I saw her set down her book out of the corner of my eye. Then she had my full attention again. She stood and moved gracefully away from the desk, her hips swaying smoothly in rhythm with each soft step she took.

"Where is she going?" I mumbled under my breath, not expecting Stefan to answer me.

"Looks like she is going to the ladies' room, or maybe she is actually going to do some work."

"Shut up, Stefan. Why are you here again?" I asked irritably, making my way over to the desk, and peeking around the corner to make sure she was a safe distance away. I picked up the book she was reading to find the reason for her blush.

"Nope," I said to myself, interrupting whatever it was that Stefan had been rambling about and that I wasn't even halfway listening to.

"Nope, what? I didn't even ask you anything." Stefan looked puzzled for a moment.

"Nope, she's not reading smut. She blushed when she turned to this page, but it wasn't smut that made her blush. It was love, sappy, mushy love." I put the book back down exactly the way she had left it. "She's coming back," I told Stefan.

"So?" he said.

"So, leave." I hissed.

"Why? So you can go back to stalking her from afar?" Stefan laughed.

"Ass," I blurted out, turning to walk away from the desk.

"Can I help you?" A soft voice rang out from around the corner and I didn't need more than one guess to know whose voice it was. If I'd thought it was hard to breathe when her heartbeat was screaming my name, you can image what it was like to hear her voice. It was melodious, like a soft wind chime swaying in a light breeze.

I turned back to see her standing a few feet from me. Never have I ever had a problem talking to a female, but for some reason words failed me when she was standing before me. Her scent enveloped me and I couldn't breathe. It was like what I imagined heaven to smell like, soft, fresh, airy, light and warm. Oh so warm, like the sun.

"Umm, yeah. We were looking to check out some books," Stefan uttered, filling the awkward silence. I couldn't say a word. I just shook my head, turning away from the petite brunette, and walked out of the library, leaving Stefan to finish whatever it was that he'd started.

I sat in my car in front of the library, waiting for my brother. I was still there when Stefan finally left, almost an hour after I did. Hot anger arose deep within me, and I wanted nothing more than to rip my own brother's throat out for spending the last hour alone with her. While I had just stood there gawking at her for 15 minutes, only to walk away as soon as she said four little words to me. I kept watching, but no one else entered the library for the rest of the afternoon. I kept thinking I could just walk in there and make sure she never talked to Stefan or anyone else again. But I didn't. Instead I watched as the sun set and she walked out of the library, a large handbag slung over her shoulder, and a mint green sweater draped over the center of it.

* * *

That night I sat in my 1960 baby blue Camaro in front of the boardinghouse, her green sweater tucked tightly in my hand. I held it to my nose, inhaling her sent. God, she really did smell heavenly. Her scent was like nothing I had ever smelled before. I gripped it tighter with both hands, pushing it up against my face and inhaling one last time, before getting out of the car.

I walked into the living room area and headed straight for the parlor. I needed a drink. I needed to clear my head, chase all thoughts of her. But I could feel the thin material of her mint green sweater, clutched securely in my fist. I should have left it in the car. I should have thrown it away. Taking a swig of my bourbon, I brought the sweater back up to my face, inhaling the fresh scent that the bourbon had just burned away. It was sick. I should burn the thing.

But I knew I wouldn't. I kept breathing in the reminder of her, trying to defeat it with the overpowering scent of 150 year old bourbon.

"What did you do, Damon?" Stefan ripped the sweater from my hands. "Did you kill her? She was a nice girl. Not like anyone else in this town."

"It's none of your damn business what I did or didn't do. Now, I suggest you give me that back before I take it back, along with your hand," I snarled at Stefan, showing more fang than I'd planned. My thoughts instantly raced to the scene this afternoon, of Stefan alone in the library with her for over an hour. I could suddenly smell her on his skin. Had he touched her? How did he know she was a nice girl? Had she talked to him? Had he talked to her? Without giving it a second thought I flashed to Stefan, snapped his neck and pulled the sweater from his fingers before his limp body could hit the ground.

"At least I let you keep your hand," I spat, stepping over his body. I grabbed my bottle of 150 year old bourbon and heading upstairs to my room to continue my torture in private.

To say that my night was restful would be the understatement of all understatements. When my bottle was finally empty, I closed my eyes. The scent that lingered in her sweater filled me with visions of her. I saw her standing in my bay window, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest. She shivered from the cool night breeze that filled the room. Gradually her warm scent started to fade. She started to smell cold, stale. Her warm olive skin paled and she began to decay. I ran to her, throwing the sweater over her shoulders to keep the cold at bay, but the sweater just fell to the ground. Her frail body was gone. I felt a gust of wind pass over my body, and when I woke I was clenching the mint green sweater to my chest like it was a life vest and I was drowning in a sea of her.

* * *

The next day I was sitting in my car, in the exact same place I was the afternoon before. I was staring at the library doors, willing myself to walk through them and hand her back her sweater. If I believed in God, I'd be praying that parting with the sweater would take the nightmares away with it.

I pushed the library door open, sweater in hand. And there she was, sitting at the desk, just like yesterday. She was alive and well, her warm scent filling the room. There was something different about it today though. It was more like a breezy beach on a warm summer day with a touch of vanilla.

"Can I help you?" Her soft voice rang out before I could even come up with my explanation about why I was there and how I happened to have her sweater.

"You're back," She said, and I couldn't make out if she was asking me a question or making a statement. My mind couldn't quite register anything once she started talking. "You were here yesterday, with Stefan." Again I wasn't sure if that was a statement, but all I picked up on was that she remembered my brother's name already. Every muscle in my body flexed as I wished I had done more than break his neck last night.

"This is yours, right?" I said, raising my hand to show her the mint green sweater she had dropped last night while walking home from work. I could hear her heart skip a beat. She was scared. "You dropped it in the park last night," I told her, trying to calm her nerves. "I didn't want to chase after you to give it back; for fear that I would scare you. But it seems that I've done that anyway."

"Thank you," She replied timidly, holding out her hand for the sweater I was now clutching close to my chest. I wasn't ready for this to be over yet.

"Sorry, I just thought it'd be better if I gave it back to you here, in public, where you wouldn't think I was a mindless killer stalking you." I chuckled at myself because that was exactly what I was. I walked slowly across the room, trying to make sure I moved at strictly human speed and not a hair over it. When I finally made it to her desk, I found I simply couldn't move my hand to hand her the sweater.

"I understand." She said smiling at me, her hand still extended for the sweater. She made a noise clearing her throat and wiggled her fingers, motioning that she was waiting for me to return her sweater.

"Is there a reward?" I asked, feeling so much more confident now that I was this close to her.

She lowered her arm, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly. "Why? I didn't even know it was missing. If you like it so much, you can keep it. But I really don't think peppermint green is your color." There was a teasing note in her voice.

"And what would be more my color?" I couldn't help but take this as far as I could.

She looked me up and down slowly, "black." Her answer was matter-of-fact. I raised my hand and offered to give her sweater back to her. When she reached for it again, I pulled it back.

"Why are you here?" I asked, studying her reaction closely.

"I work here," She answered, and returned the question, "Why are you here?" I raised her sweater in the air, answering her without words, but she didn't give up that easily. "Why were you here yesterday then?" She asked, pegging me with her big doe eyes.

"I came to look at the city archives."

"The archives are private: only members are allowed to enter the restricted area. Is your name on the list?" She dropped her gaze. "Salvatore, right?"

I'd forgotten for a moment that I'd compelled our last librarian to forget that my name had been on the list over almost 200 years, so I stepped closer, dropping the sweater on top of the book, stopping her from looking any deeper into the log book for my family name. Before she could remove the sweater from its place on top of the book, I was gone.

* * *

Four hours later, I was still sitting in my car in front of the library. Again no one had entered or exited all day. She had to have the most boring job in the world. I waited for the sunset and watched until she left the library at the same exact time as the day before. Turning the open sign to closed before locking the door, she walked in the exact same direction she had the previous night.

I stepped out of my Camaro, heading towards the shadows of the dimly lit sidewalk. I was going to be following close behind her, but far enough back that she wouldn't see me, and if she did, it wouldn't seem as though I was stalking her. Within minutes she stopped, swiveling her head in every direction, as if she could sense that I was there. Just as she had done the previous night, right before she dropped her sweater and I'd lost her.

As fast as she'd turned to see if someone was following her, she turned back around and continued her walk through the park. When she got to the church, she cut abruptly to the right. She cast one more glance behind her before her feet finally started to move at a faster pace. Finally she darted behind the church, towards a man in a dark robe that covered him from head to toe. He towered over her, leaning in as he kissed the top of her head. I couldn't see his face or make out any of his features. But I knew our pastor, who was man of average height, and this definitely wasn't him.

I pushed deeper into the trees that surrounded the church, keeping to the shadows and trying to stay out of sight. Using my supernatural hearing, I did my best to listen to what they were saying, but they only talked in a langue that even I wasn't familiar with.

I watched as she knelt before him, bending her head and resting her hands flat against the top of her thighs. The faceless man in the robe held his hand to her head and continued his rambling in the unfamiliar langue. This went on for almost 20 minutes, but I never heard the same word repeated, nor was I able to pick up a word that might sound familiar to me.

At last the woman stood again, and the man wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her in and embracing her. He kissed the top of her head once again. The anger that I felt because his lips were on any part of her body was overwhelming. I don't think I've ever been jealous in my life and certainly never over prey. And that's what she was: prey. It's what all humans were after all. Nothing warranted jealousy, definitely not some female I knew nothing about.

The man passed directly in front of me, and then he disappeared around the corner of the church, into the darkness. Pushing through the trees at vamp speed, I rushed to see where he was going. But before I could get there he was gone. I didn't hear a car, nor did I hear opening or closing doors. I listened for a moment, but the only sounds were the flapping wings of night birds and the muffled sobs from the girl who sat clutching the moist grass behind the church as she cried.

* * *

I hope you like it. It's my first story. Please review. If you know anything about my twitter account, you know I'm all about promoting good stories and I only read the best. So, writing and posting this isn't easy. Thank you for reading.

Alright I found a beta for this chapter thank you Valerie aka val_victrix. I appreciate the work you did. I know it's not easy reading my mess. I hope you plan to stick around and help out for the remainder of the story.


End file.
